Decem
by JustJasper
Summary: 10 M/R drabbles for a music meme, each a one-shot. Fluff, angst, mild smut, violence, reference to domestic abuse.


**1. Pick a character, fandom, pairing, friendship, theme, etc.  
>2. Put on your music program on shufflerandom and start playing songs.  
>3. For each song, write something inspired by the song related to the theme you chose earlier. You only have the song length. No pre-planning and no writing after the song is over. No skipping songs unless you're completely stuck – this is meant to be a challenge.<br>4. Do 10 songs and post. Make sure to include the song name/artist.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Fray – You Found Me<strong>_

It had been raining, and Derek was soaked to the bone as he sat in the pews of the cold, empty church. He hadn't known where else to go after what he'd said.

"Why have you done this to me?" he asked aloud, not sure who to. "Why have you made me this?"

He dropped his head into his hands, a shuddering breath barely keeping his tears at bay. God was indifferent at best, and cruel at worst. Everything Morgan had been through, everything he'd prayed to stop, everything he'd said to please a God he wasn't even sure existed...

"Morgan."

It wasn't God's voice, the one he had hoped might come through for him all his life; it was Reid's. Morgan turned in the pew to see Spencer, similarly rain-soaked, walking up the aisle towards him.

"Reid..." he murmured.

"We're not a sin, Morgan." The thin man said, and through the deceiving dampness on the man's face, Derek could see his eyes brimming with tears. "We're not wrong. You don't need the approval of a myth! You don't need salvation," he blinked and tears fell from his brown eyes, "let me save you. Like you saved me."

"Reid, I-"

"Please, Derek." He begged. "Don't give up on us. Not for God, not for anything."

Morgan felt his own resolve break and the tears leaked from his eyes, because he knew he wanted to do what Reid asked of him. He had struggled to believe in God for years; he had never struggled to believe in Spencer Reid.

He got up and threw himself into the other man's arms, burying his face in the man's neck and letting sobs wrack his strong form, as slender arms encircled him, cradled his exposed soul.

"Loving you can't be a sin, can it?" Morgan murmured into the man's skin, choked by a sob and Reid squeezed him tighter.

"No." Reid assured. "Love isn't wrong."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Boyce Avenue – Broken Angel<strong>_

"Leave him."

Spencer looked up at his friend's face through the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"I can't." He muttered.

"He hits you, Reid." Morgan pressed, as he continued to gently wind bandages around Reid's cut hand. The perpetrating large piece of mirror slicked with blood lay discarded on the table nearby.

"He loves me."

"People who love you don't hit you." Morgan said sadly. "I would never hit you." He added, meeting Reid's gaze.

"But you don't love me." Reid said weakly, trying to still the way his bottom lip wobbled at reminding himself of that fact.

"Yes I do." Morgan hushed, still holding Reid's hand in his even though it was dressed with bandages.

"As a friend..." Reid said weakly, preparing for how the confirmation of that was going to hurt worse than the beating he'd received an hour earlier from his boyfriend.

"As everything." Morgan corrected, with a pleading look at the other man. "Leave him, Reid, please. I'll never let him touch you again. I'll never let anyone hurt you. I'll never raise a hand against you, because I love you, pretty boy."

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Editors – No Sound But The Wind<strong>_

Reid's skin was almost as white as the snow on the ground as Morgan lifted him into his arms. He made a small keening sound and clung to the front of Morgan's Kevlar, hiding his face from the wind against the man's warmth. Morgan hushed him, holding him securely as he trudged through the trees, skeletal figures dusted in while in the January cold.

The wind carried away the sound of dogs and shouting in the opposite direction, stealing any call for assistance Morgan could make.

"Hold on, Reid." He said.

"Morgan, don't let her get me." he babbled into Morgan's chest. "Don't let her find me."

"You're safe now." Morgan assured, watching and snow began to fall through the woodland again as he traced the footfalls that had brought him to where Reid was, exhausted but liberated from captivity at the hands of the unsub they were searching for.

"I thought I was going to die in the snow," Reid whispered, clinging to Morgan, hissing at the pain in his leg, "and I thought of when you kissed me that first winter and I didn't want to die there alone..."

"You're not going to die." Morgan said, believing it even as he looked back at the spots of red left in their wake on the glittering snow.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Peter Gabriel – The Book Of Love<strong>_

Derek Morgan couldn't articulate what it felt like when Spencer Reid made love to him. The majesty of every touch of strong, spidery, patient hands to prepare him, fingers wrapped around him or dancing on his skin, circling secret flesh or slicked and pressed into him, curling and steering him headlong into blinding light.

The soft intensity in his caramel eyes as he gripped behind Derek's knee and aligned them, the care and composure as he kept Morgan's gaze as he pushed forward into tight heat, the hands that cradled the older man's face as he sank slowly.

The playful smooth roll of his hips against his lover's, one practiced over many years, a far cry from the nervous awkwardness of the first time. The soft kisses to Derek's swollen lips as they moved, the murmured words about him feeling so strong even as he was penetrated, the hands gliding over definition of muscle.

Spencer clinging to Derek's flesh as he clung to his composure, failing as the sex became needy and desperate as the both approached their end, and more and more as the years went by, an almost simultaneous climax; the darker man crying out as every inch of him danced in sudden release, the lighter calling his love's name as he flooded him, long fingers gripping hard and pouty lips crushing into ones that were chocolate tinged with pink.

When Spencer Reid made love to Derek Morgan, the feelings didn't need to be articulated. They were understood as they were experienced.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Alkaline Trio – This Addiction<strong>_

"It's the best feeling in the world." The unsub said.

"The need?" Reid posed, crossing his arms loosely on the table.

"The high."

"The itch at the base of your skull." Reid offered, and the unsub's face lit up that the profiler seemed to share his sentiment, his experience of heroin.

"The throb of blood in your fingertips." The unsub reminisced.

"The way it feels like sunlight in your veins."

"The glow."

"The comfortable fuzziness."

"The climb down, and the itching again. The craving."

"It's the best feeling in the world." Reid agreed.

"Don't the people you work with mind?" the unsub asked, clearly interested.

"Why would they mind?" Reid knotted his brow. "It's none of their business."

"Right, but people think it's their place to tell people not to take drugs."

"Drugs?" Reid questioned, tilting his head.

"Heroin, right?" the unsub nodded his chin towards Reid's arms. Reid smiled and shook his head.

"Oh, no," he shrugged his shoulders, "I wasn't talking about drugs. I was talking about sex."

"What?" he scoffed. "They are nowhere near the same thing."

"I've done both, and sex is definitely better." Reid said in a matter of fact way. "Perhaps it's an individual experience, but I've found having sex with the man I'm in love with creates similar, but often heightened sensations as the ones I had on Dilaudid."

"Smack is better than sex." The unsub said, narrowing his eyes at the profiler.

"Maybe you've just never had really great sex." Reid offered earnestly, turning his head to glance for just a second at the one-way glass of the interrogation room.

On the other side, Morgan was trying to suppress a grin.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Fightstar – The English Way<strong>_

"Morgan." Reid said firmly, grabbing the man's wrists and holding them firmly, before his darker lover could pound his fists against his forehead again.

"Let go, Reid!" he snapped.

"Derek," the other man tried in more soothing tones, "stop, Derek."

"Get the fuck off me!" the twang of panic in his usually smooth voice was alarming.

"He can't hurt you anymore, Derek." Spencer assured, pulling the man's hands down to mid-chest, manoeuvring his head and trying to catch his gaze.

"Why is this happening?" Morgan whined pitifully, screwing his eyes shut. A vision, a memory, a flashback swam into his consciousness and he cried out, his knees buckling. Spencer went with him, sinking to the bedroom floor with him, still holding his wrists as the man strained to beat them against his brow again.

"Derek, he can't hurt you." Reid repeated. "You're safe. You're safe with me."

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Script – Exit Wounds<strong>_

"You let him shoot you."

Reid looked ready to strike out at Morgan with a white-knuckled fist, balled at his sides. Morgan blinked at him.

"I didn't have a choice."

"You let him shoot you." Reid repeated slowly, accusingly.

"If I hadn't he might have shot you." Morgan pointed out.

"He. Shot. You." Reid looked slightly unstable as he punctuated every word, eyes very wide as he stood at Morgan's hospital bedside. "In. The. Head."

"It only grazed-"

"In your head, Morgan!" he said frantically. "How could you even-"

"Pretty boy," Morgan said calmly, "I'd take that bullet again if it was the only way to keep you safe."

Reid flinched, and then punched him hard in the chest. Immediately he crumpled into the motion and collapsed against Morgan, a pathetic sob clawing up out of his throat.

"In the head, Morgan..." he murmured helplessly. Morgan merely smiled to himself, raising a hand to run through the man's hair.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Joshua Radin – These Photographs<strong>_

There were few material things in Spencer's life that were of great importance to him. His eidetic memory meant information was stored away as it was process, and there was really no reason to keep books and texts except for posterity.

One thing that was very important to him, however, was the huge photo album he owned. It was probably the most important object in his life. Each photo was a memory captures, and even though he had no trouble recalling them, having a visual record of them meant everything.

The first photograph was a Polaroid Garcia had taken of him and Derek on a night out with the team. It had been just a week later when Reid had accidentally, automatically leant in to kiss Morgan when he said goodbye to him at his door, and instead of pulling away Derek had kissed him back. That was four years previously.

The album was full of memories; dates, nights out, candid shots taken in a spare second on a case with a phone and printed off later. There were photos from the first office Christmas party after they'd come out as a couple, pictures of Spencer in fancy dress with his godson Henry for Halloween, pictures of Derek and his sisters and mother. There was a great shot of Reid and Clooney covered in mud, the human looking miserable and the dog looking pleased with himself. There were plenty of shots of them together when they'd held the camera aloft and lay together, or kissed, or pulled ridiculous faces.

There were pictures of Spencer's feet in socks and Morgan lifting his shift to show off his abs. There were photos from their three year anniversary dinner. There was a shot of them kissing in front of the replica mammoth at the natural history museum, taken by Garcia just a minute after Morgan had asked Reid to marry him, and Reid had said yes.

Those memories were precious to him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kim Richey – The Absence of Your Company<strong>_

"I don't want to do this." Morgan said. "I don't want to break up."

"We have to." Reid said, pressing his lips against the back of his hand. "They'll fire us if they find out."

"Who cares?" Morgan huffed.

"I care."

"So is the BAU more important to you than I am?" Morgan asked. Reid said nothing. Morgan closed his eyes, letting out a wounded breath. "How can give up on this so easily?"

"It's for the best."

"But it's not what I want!" Morgan snapped. "It's not what you want!"

"Yes it is." Reid said firmly.

"You're a damn liar." Morgan scoffed. "You can't even look at my damn face to tell me it's over."

Reid slowly wound his gaze around to look at Morgan, at his hurt face and shining eyes. He parted and closed his lips several times before any sound came out.

* * *

><p><em><strong>YouMeAtSix- Always Attract<strong>_

"I miss you." Morgan's voice was quiet on the line.

"I know." Reid said, shifting the phone against his ear as he watched his mother sleeping.

"When are you coming home?" he asked, voice small but hopeful.

"I don't know, Derek." Spencer admitted. "My mom still isn't doing well."

"It's been over a month." Morgan whispered. Reid hated how sad he sounded, so unsure, so unlike the man he loved.

"I know, I'm sorry-"

"I know you need to be there," Morgan added, "but I didn't think it would be this hard on my own." Morgan's voice cracked, and Reid wanted to reach through the phone and kiss away all the sounds of pain and hurt and betrayal.

"I'll be home soon. I promise."


End file.
